Window

Windows,
Could it be so abstract?
The consciousness itself is one.
A window born with,
Shared between all classes of living things
Births of emotions
Flushing from weaved fate.

Enlightenment, a holy window
Containing deep wisdom
Lantern of understanding life
Appreciating life,
Caring and be humble
As a principle of a marked treasure map.

And yes, you could not leave out
The very window you are using--eyes
They gesture our mind
But yet they are our main input of scenery and beauty
Filtering our abhors
Look away they say, they take the lead
The leading window.

By 7 Spades

Blue Sea

Once an empire
Enchanted with wisdom,
Blessed with technology,
Bestowed upon civilization of complex nature,
United with sister stars above.
An oracle spoke the vision-
No prosperity lasts long.
Soon, dispersed into ruins of empty value,
Sinked into a sea of sombre grey and desolate depth
A grace of voices
Binded in agony of a burning hell.

Around the gloomy lagoon of a shallow grave,
One could hear the whispers of the Sirens
Above their dissolved homeland,
Blanketed in indigo.
Swimming
In a ring of collision marked rocks.

Their calls of deceit,
Is a chorus rendering voyagers
Into an illusionary paradox
False, misleading they have it as their trait.
A fully soluble seduction able,
In a glimpse, dilute consciousness
Into a nightmare for lost souls.

Heart so cold,
As cold as the water the're bounded to.
One moment,
A breeze brought along
A prophecy of their bewitching schemes.
An untranslated warning,
No one to decipher,
Based with waves with spotted glooms.
Backgrounded with reefs poisoned
By the venom of luminous scales
Bathing in the waters.

Their incredible voices
Battles to extract sanity
Deals the ultimatum to any trespasser
To contract as their companion forever
Banked and buried deep down
As pets to those tainted and wicked,
Camouflaged with divine beauty
And angelic tones
Above a fallen name--Atlantis.

By 7 spades

Last-Minute

Dateline
A merciless judgement
Bottle necked a brain
In search of ideas from
A dried up well of inspiration.

Tensed and stressed over,
Pen clamped between teeth
Fingers lost, wandering in a black hedge above
A mind immersed in a swamp of mess
Of mud that traps and buries even deeper
By every second.

The contract about to run out of value
Cruelly taunting to give up,
But no, the mind starts the windmills and turbines
Empowering the thoughts into colorful creativity.

Unwinding the trapping teeth,
The pen magnetized to a sheet
Translating emotion-filled-brainstorms
Into draft of characters
Only legible to the creator

A sigh of relieve was heard,
Satisfaction of to have had
Sailed away from the bays of empty-handed
Finally.

By 7 spades

Royal

The last spark of sun dissolved into the valley.
Dark, a mansion dances to the thrill of events.
Lights-flowers-vases-table cloths-napkins, comely.
Strike of eight, a party was invigorated.

Curtains lifted, chandeliers glowing yellow white.
Tons of gables surveying the guests consisting,
Public men, women, smart and gaudy, midas-like,
And plenty of splendid carriages, ebony or ember.

Air, blended with waltz from a pitful ochestra,
Under a constant sea of movement, confusion.
Men helping themselves to cigars, ports of extras,
Women, noticing, showing, accompanying.

On the dinner table a feast, usual.
The hors-d'oeuvre, roasted classic ham and foie gras.
Sent eyes spell-bounded, but still he thought was normal
Well, he almost enjoy such luxuries daily.

While the lavishness goes on satisfying guests,
A beggar squats in an alley lamped by moonlight,
Rubbing his hands by the vent that supplied warm gas.
Chill and hungry night he prays to take him away.

By 7 spades

Jupiter

Do you see her
Dressed in so many shades of brown,
A unique sense of fashion.
Docile and feeble,
Tame and obedient,
Smooth, a ball of wood
Skillfully carved
Without any tracess of unevenness.

But do you see her
She decieves
Using her tune to lure, to cloak
The wrath slumbering in silence
Inside her core.
Her rage, madness
And the gobbling fury
Was born from the existence
Of a storm of hatred and vengeance
Trapped in a cycle
That will last for centuries.
Her emotions never settle until
The day she settles her revenge
For blood, and agony
That her lover that dumped her
Shall expose.

Do you hear her
Her wicked chuckle,
A villain's plot
Resides in her vexed and vile spirit.
She shall never forgive,
Shall never forget,
Shall never settle
Until the sin she defines as karma
Comes true
As a payment of a shattered fragile heart
That she stores in her memory vault
Forever.

By 7 spades

Life's Symphony

Life's Symphony

Journey

A fated manuscript

Awaits us to claim this piece

Of elegance and transitions
Of ups and downs of life.

Parents

The bass,
The accompaniment, the foundation,
Of a perfect melody yet to end
Channeling support by materializing dynamics
To bring, to stress, to fortify, to nurture us
Into a tree that 

Can withstand torrents.

They spectate the ripening of infinite fruits

In the finale
For that is their one and only hope
To watch how far the sapling they planted,

They believed in
Can grow.

Friends
Offer them the treble
Like how they would exchange theirs
For us
They are so distinct that
Without them
Who would tread through the hardships
With us that
We are hiding from our parents.
They aid, they care, they sympathize
No matter how awful the look
On our troubled faces,

Neutralizing our desperation or despair.
In return, act as their friend too
Support them, aid them, love them
As how they cherish us.


But wait
What are we then?

Perhaps the alto or tenor
Somewhere stuck in between
Treble and bass
Benefiting from parents
As well as helping friends

A mutual survival
Our notes may sometimes intersect
With the other two pitches
But it's just a moment
We just need to repress ourselves
Back to our rightful pitch of harmony
The continuation of our collaboration
With treble and bass
Of chords and triads.

Our life can't play solo
For it will be plain and dull
Yes, no man is an island
And for life
Its just about shaping ourselves
To be able to tailor the symphony
As long as possible.

By 7 Spades

Bloom

Bloom

The enternal bloom,
For that is the term.
A midnight moonflower spreads her chain of petals,
Basking in the moonlight,
Framed with dew that
Resembled Topaz and Emerald.

Her beautiful petals.
But behind admiration stands fragility.
A chubby cloud's texture,
Forever captivated by
The potential charm emitted.

What a shy bud once she was,
But then she matured,
Splitting the pod and expanding uniformly,
Free from captivation
Brave, majestic
A lone trumpet composing a theme,

Nothing could replace such sight,
A birth of new life,
With a spirit to satisfy
Desires of a glorious potrait.

By 7 spades

The Violet Sun

The Violet Sun

Listen to the violet sun,

Her everlasting hum,

The essence of the universe.

Heed to her glorious spectrum

Of undefined pastel,

Soft, gentle, pure

Like feather's touch.

Let her rays tap your heart

Where a twist of fate awaits,

Loyally,

So that is her humble blessing,

Condensed with forgiveness,

For the power granted

Shall be the lamp that repels

The mist of delusions,

The guide away from the age of calamity.

She emerged from the void of discord,

Refined with a delicate millennium shield,

The ability to pierce through all chaos,

Just to watch over reality, the truth.

This is her,

The violet sun.

By 7 spades